A Stolen Love
by umbrella365
Summary: When the boy Madge Undersee loves is chosen for the Hunger Games, she only worries about mourning him. But will she have to worry about another girl stealing him away from her?
1. Chapter 1

I smile when I see Katniss arrive at school.

"Hello, Katniss," I say softly.

She doesn't look up. "Hello, Madge."

There is chatter around us, but we both stay silent. She seems to like it better this way. I used to try to start a conversation, but she'd usually just mumble yes or no, even if the question needed a more complex answer. So we don't talk.

I smooth my new pink skirt nervously. I find myself regretting wearing it today. It looks pretty, crisp, and is less than a week old. Katniss is dressed in pants ridden with holes, and a too-small tee shirt with a threadbare sweater. I see her glance at me through the corner of her eye. Her mouth twitches downward slightly, and I feel my cheeks get warm.

But, luckily, she just grunts quietly and adjusts her expression to look like she doesn't care, like it means but nothing for me to be wearing something her family could never afford, even with all that illegal hunting she does. It warms my heart that she tries to act like it doesn't bother her that my father is so wealthy.

She is the closest thing I will ever have to a best friend.

Most of the other girls at school despise me for my new clothes and how I have food to eat every night. How I've been to the Capitol- and on vacation. How I barely have to worry about my name getting picked for the Hunger Games.

Katniss signs up for tesserae every year, for herself, her sister, and her frail mother. Everyone in District Twelve knows a different story about her mother's illness. Some say that she and Mr. Everdeen had a supernatural connection, and part of her died when he did, others that the coal dust from the explosion had infected her lungs and caused her to be so weak. But the majority of people think that her mother is dying of sorrow from her father's death. Although I haven't the heart to tell Katniss, the Everdeen family is a common topic around the district.

I look at Katniss again, who is now gazing at a boy who is a year or two older than us. He has dark brown hair, tan skin, grey eyes- he could almost be Katniss's brother, they look so much alike.

But he isn't. I catch Katniss staring at him quite often, and it doesn't look like he's a brother to her. I don't think she knows it herself that she likes him, but everyone else does. I think he would be a good match for her. Of course, I would never tell her this.

But I have eyes for a boy who is our age. He's brawny, but gentle. Kind, but shrewd. He has the tousled blond waves and light blue eyes of an angel. Peeta Mellark. He has two older brothers, Cender and Lesse, but neither of them is as sweet and kind as Peeta.

I go into his family's bakery every Wednesday, right when he starts working. He always knows what I'm going to buy. Someday, I might have the nerve to ask for something else, and start up a conversation. Just not tommorow. Or next week. Or any of the weeks after that...

I jolt as I see his ice-blue eyes staring at me. I start to smooth my hair, then I realize that he is not looking at me. He's looking at Katniss. My heart slows down. I look from her to him. Perhaps he's looking beyond her, at something beyond the gate, something in the forest. But he might be looking at her. I'm just examining his eyes more closely when the bell rings.

Everyone starts shuffling to the doors. Katniss and I are swept in to a warm, sweaty mass of bodies. I should be paying attention to where I'm going, but my eyes are still on Peeta. He's turned away, talking to one of his friends. I peer more closely, trying to see what he's saying.

"Whoa!" I yelp as my legs go out from underneath me.

I'm not paying attention to the grumbles of the students around me that I fell on. I'm looking at Peeta, hoping he didn't see my clumsy fall. But, no, hie's still turned away from me, his eyes on his friend. I sigh with relief and start to dust myself off.

I frown, for my new skirt has dirt all over it now. I try to brush most of it off, but the wet soil clings to the fabric, and the more I rub it the more it soaks deeper into the fabric. Hopefully I can wash some of it off later.

I look up to see Katniss waiting for me, her usual frown upon her face. I smile gratefully. No one else would wait for me.

I'm lucky to have a friend at all.

As we get settled at school, we file into the auditoribum to have our weekly lecture about the history of Panem. It takes up nearly half of the school day, and most of it is all about the Hunger Games that will soon be taking place.

I look at a clock. We shouldn't have much time left in our lecture, just five minutes or so. I'm beginning to get ready to go when our teacher claps her hands loudly.

"So!" she says. "We have a very special guest here today to talk about the 74th Hunger Games. Boys and Girls, please welcome… Effie Trinket!"

We all clap, astonished that Effie showed up. My father is always kind and polite to Effie when we see her in the Capitol and during when she reads the names for the Hunger Games, but he always complains about her, and how she always tries to put too much enthusiam into everything she does.

"Hello, students of District Twelve!" she squeals. "I'm Effie Trinket! Let me tell you what an honor it is to be here! It's so lovely to be here to see your smiling faces!"

No one is smiling. I can see her gritting her teeth under her too-white fake smile.

"This was so worth missing a hair appointment for!"

And there's why. Her pale green wig is more frizzy than she usually keeps it. She adjusts it, and it looks worse than it did before. I notice a camera crew sneak in, and gesture to her to fix it. She looks confued for a moment, then just ignores them and continues talking.

"Well, students, as you know, the 74th Hunger Games are approaching fast, fast, fast! May the 8th, students! Save the date! Tesserae signups started on May 1st, so make sure you put your name down if it isn't already recorded! Four days, girls and boys! Only four until the 74th Hunger Games start to take shape! And do you know what comes after that? Yes! You guessed it! The Quarter Quell! I'm sure the gamemakers have something special planned for next year! And isn't that Seneca Crane just a dream?" She pauses for laughter, but doesn't get any. "Well! First time participants in the reaping, I'm sure you're all getting excited! Am I right?"

Nobody says anything. I know that Effie can sense the tension in the room, but she ignores it and continued. "You all know the rules! But, just to be sure, let me go over them again!"

Katniss clutches the armrests tightly. She takes deep breaths in and out. I glance at her little 12-year-old sister, Primrose (though everybody calls her Prim), who is looking concernedly at her sister. She manages to catch Katniss's eye, and gives her a smile. Katniss can barely return it.

The fact that Prim will be in the running for the Hunger Games is a sore subject for Katniss. Even though Katniss has taken just about every precaution possible for her little sister, she is still worried. Because Prim has more of a chance of getting picked than oh, say, me.

I would honestly love to say that I wish that Prim and I could switch places in class so that she would have a greater chance of not getting chosen for the Hunger Games, but that would be a lie. Not even for someone as gentle and kind as Prim. I doubt even Katniss would volunteer herself if Prim was chosen.

But occasionally, someone of higher class may be chosen. Six years ago, a thirteen-year-old girl, who was the daughter of the candy store owner, was chosen. She died two minutes into the gsmes, trying to get food from the cornucopia. My father was sorry when her name was chosen, because he and her father were friends. Every Friday when I came home from school, there would be a piece of candy waiting for me in my room. Ever since the candy store owner's daughter was killed though, there is more, because my father feels so badly for his friend's loss and buys as much as he can from te shop.

Every now and then, when I have quite a bit of candy, I'll give a few pieces to Katniss. She never eats them, she only smiles briefly and shoves them in her pocket to save for her little sister. I know that my older sister, Tanzie, would never do the same for me, but then again, we've always had enough and equal amounts of everything. Tanzie lives in the capitol now, and is a successful fashion designer. My skirt was designed by her, and is a million times less subtle than any other garment she has designed.

I examine Effie's outfil. A pink, teal, and emerald pantsuit with turquoise pantyhose and magenta 4-inch-high heels boots. Very conservative, by Capitol standards. But she must maintain her image as a well-to-do Capitol citizen. She enjoys the feeling that she is more important than us.

There is a giggle from the audience, and my eyes snap up to Effie's head. Her wig has fallen off, and she doesn't know it. Her frizzy, fluffy, voluminous white-blonde curls push themselves out of her pink wig cap. She smiles, bewildered, for evidently her monologue wasn't supposed to get a laugh at this time. Our teacher stifles a laugh, and then taps Effie's shoulder.

She whispers in Effie's ear, and Effie's cheeks turn even pinker than her roseate cheek rouge. She reaches down and has just snatched the wig up when she starts to teeter on her heels. She flails her arms, still holding the wig, when she finally falls. The wig flies out of her hands, and I see her synthetic nails break as her hands hit the ground.

Everyone is full on laughing now, and it takes quite a bit for District 12 kids to laugh. The camera crew in the back of the auditorium are laughing and chattering loudly and excitedly in the chirpy capitol accent. This must be comedy gold in the capitol. Effie is sitting on her bottom, looking ridiculous, with her broken heels, scrunched up wig cap revealing frizzy, tousled curls, torn pantyhose, and running makeup because of her tears. She looks straight into the camera, gasps, and dashes off the stage with tears streaming down her cheeks.

I look over at Katniss, and she has a funny smile on her face. It's just… overly big. It looks strange on her. I squint, trying to get used to it being on her face. She starts to look at me weirdly out of the corner of her eye, and I look back at the stage quickly.

"Everyone, QUIET!" the teacher shouts, and a few giggles remain as everyone settles down. "I am ashamed of you. Treating a visitor from the Capitol with such little respect! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves."

I looked down at my feet, not actually feeling bad. I'm still getting over seeing Katniss smiling.

"Go in STRAIGHT LINES back to your classes. You will sit down and remain seated in silence for the rest of the day. I excpect ever single one of you to write an apology letter to Ms. Trinket by the end of the day. Do I make myself clear? Good. Chop, chop."

We all file out quietly, the moment of happiness over. There isn't a trace of a smile remaining on Katniss's face. She stares straight forward, her regular scowl back in place. I keep seeing the smile again in my mind, like an imprint from a light on my eyelids. There was something off about it.

And then it strikes me. This time, Katniss wasn't smiling to make me happy, or trying to smile to make anyone else happy.

She was smiling because she herself was happy.

Chapter 2


	2. Chapter 2

The day of the reaping always creeps up behind us. We know, it's there, we know it's coming. And yet, we let it sit like a shadow beneath us until we stand up, and suddenly, there it is. But what may be even worse, in terms of the bigger picture, is the day before.

The day of is suspense leading up to the tensest, worst moment. But it's over in a flash, and then we all are, save for two families, safe. The celebration begins, and everyone is full of joy.

But today is full of darkness, although there isn't a single cloud in the sky. The well to do are on edge. The middle class is terrified. And those who are poor have one last ray of hope that they cling to desperately.

I enter the school building and walk down the hall to my classroom. On my way there, I pass a small, bony girl. She walks alone. Her face is grey and her eyes sunken and red. People rushing by barely notice her, or the tear trickling down her ashen cheek. One boy bumps into her, and she falls to pieces. Her sobs shake down her minute frame as she tries to keep the agonized cries to herself.

I set my bag down and go to her. She is whimpering, hiding in shame from the disgusted looks that follow her.

"Give it a rest, brat. We all have to go through it," someone hisses.

The others milling about grumble their agreement. "You're no different than anyone else, so get over it." I even hear curse words thrown at her.

"Shut it, all of you! Do you not remember your first reaping? Was there anyone _not _terrified? It's enough for you to not try and help her, but to call her things! It was take less effort to keep your mouth shut!"

I hear laughter. "What's that, you rich little ditz? Did you seriously just tell us that you were nervous at your first reaping? Oh, poor you, name in once. No one with one slip gets picked and you know it. _She_ may be no different than we are but _you_ are. You're a stuck-up, no good, ugly little rat with no brain! Shut up and get back to doing what you're good at- which is absolutely _nothing!_"

I'm in shock. Insults get tossed at me left and right all the time, but nothing like this. I turn to see Gale Hawthorne looking at me with fire in his eyes. He kicks my bag, spilling its contents through the hall to be stepped on. He pushes me against the wall as he walks by.

I still haven't processed what just happened when the girl speaks.

"How did you know it's my first reaping?" Her voice cracks nervously.

I try to smile at her. "Because you look as terrified as I did at your age. What's your name?"

"Ahna."

I give her shoulder a squeeze, not certain of how to comfort her. "Listen, Ahna. Things seems bad right now, but they'll be ok. I promise."

Her lip trembles as the tears swim in her dark eyes. "My name's in there seven times."

"Hey, seven is almost nothing. I know some kids who have theirs in more than five times seven. You're going to be okay. You won't get picked, I promise you. Ok, Ahna?"

Her disposition is still miserable, but a glimmer of hope surfaces in the twitch of her mouth and the gleam in her eye. "Ok. Thank you… What's your name again?"

"Madge. Madge Undersee."

Her eyes widen. "Undersee? Like-"

"Yes, the mayor's daughter," I say hurriedly. I don't need her judging me too.

She stands up and looks at her feet. "Thank you, Miss Undersee. I, um. I have to get to class. Bye, I guess."

And she runs down the hallway. Everyone runs from me. I think most people think I am so stuck-up and self-obsessed that I prefer to be on my own. No one can see that just because I am in the situation I am doesn't mean I don't have the ordinary human need for love and company.

And yet, here I am, alone in the hallway.

No one says anything as I enter class late. Besides hating me for my wealth, they are also scared of my authority. It's a blessing and a curse, I suppose.

Our lesson today is Capitol propaganda on forming "Healthy Habits". It's almost a mockery of our district, taunting us by teaching us to eat what we do not have access to. Today is relaxed and no one is paying attention, not even the teacher, because we can't focus with our minds being eaten by what's lurking tomorrow.

Katniss is staring out the window, where a class of 12-Years are running around. I sometimes worry about her obsession with her sister, but it isn't a bad thing, and it doesn't directly affect me. And maybe that child needs some mothering.

My musings are interrupted by a smooth laugh that sounds like a crackling fireplace. My attention is suddenly set on the bronze-skinned, yellow-haired perfection that is Peeta Mellark. It used to be just a schoolgirl crush, but now… I don't know what it is about him. Anyone could note his charisma, his charm. But they haven't observed him through the window of the bakery. They haven't seen the way his mother treats him.

People think me shallow. I know it isn't true. I see things, and I understand them. I don't judge until I know the whole story. And charming, happy-go-lucky Peeta is just the sheath he uses for the sharp, cutting truth of who he really is. He is an abused boy. He is sad. He is lonely. He is longing. He may be sweet, but maybe it isn't just his personality. Maybe he's sweet because people haven't been that way to him.

I don't know. It's just an observation.


End file.
